


Playing Nice

by ElloPoppet



Series: WinterHawk Bingo Square Fills - 2019 [3]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boundaries, Communication, Confessions, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Stranded, WinterHawk Bingo, what are those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 04:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20401522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet
Summary: The point was that the three of them were stuck on a tiny fucking island, it had been days since their helicopter had crashed into the water, there was no indication of them being found anytime soon and Clint and Bucky weredriving Sam batshit crazy.





	Playing Nice

**Author's Note:**

> WinterHawk Bingo 2019 Prompt Fill
> 
> This is bordering on being a crack!fic because it's just so ridiculous. 
> 
> I love it so much. I made myself laugh in the middle of a Starbucks writing this, and so here it is. My shame level is nonexistent at this point so - all I can do at this point is hope you enjoy :)

Sam could be a scary motherfucker when he wanted to be. He could even be a scary motherfucker on accident or without intention; in hindsight, that was likely what had happened to make him snap and _lose his shit_ on Clint and Bucky after three days of being stranded with the two assholes on an island in the middle of the goddamn ocean. 

And no, it wasn’t an island the size of Hawaii, or even the size of Central Park. It was an island that consisted of rock-laden sand, a few pathetic excuses for trees, and a few bushes. It was an island that happened to be the size of the Whole Foods that Sam tried like hell to get Scott to shop at every now and again (Scott, the stubborn bastard, seemed to believe that existing on a steady diet of fast food, hot pockets and pizza rolls wouldn’t land his ass in the hospital with scurvy or some other shit)(and Sam never wanted to see Scott hurt because truth be told, the guy had _grown_ on him)(but that was beside the point entirely). 

The point was that Sam, Clint and Bucky were stuck on a tiny fucking island, it had been three days since their helicopter had crashed into the water, there was no indication of them being found anytime soon and Clint and Bucky were _driving him batshit crazy._

“Hey! I swear to God above that if you two children don’t shut your mouths for two seconds I’m going to strangle you both with my parachute cord. Do NOT test me.” Sam held up his hand when Clint, sitting on his right, immediately opened his mouth to let out a defensive scoff. “Barton? Do. Not.”

“He’s bein’ a dick, Sam,” Bucky complained from Sam’s left. “What am I supposed to do? Just let him run his mouth?”

“YES,” Sam yelled, “that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do! Ignore him and he’ll eventually get bored and knock it off.”

“Hey!” Clint cried, throwing up a middle finger and waving it around at both Sam and Bucky, “I’m sitting right here, and I’m not a futzing _toddler_, thank you. And who are you to throw yourself in the corner of a dude who literally threw one of my hearing aids into the ocean?!”

Sam snapped his gaze over to Bucky, whose mouth dropped open along with both eyes, a deer in headlights. “Barnes! Did you really, man? Because that’s low and I might move and let him at you for that.”

“No! It was an accident and he knows that!” Bucky retorted, standing and brushing the sand off of his legs. Sam winced; it was too hot for their tactical gear and so the three of them were all in different stages of dress. Bucky was down to his boxer briefs and a snug white t-shirt, and his once blindingly white legs were now burnt red with the sun. Sam wasn’t so much worried about Bucky; an hour or two in the shade and his skin would heal back to being milky-white. It was Clint in his boxers and black tank that made Sam fret, because his lobster complexion was bound to keep hurting for days after they were rescued. 

There was no “if” they were rescued in Sam’s mind. Steve was too noble and hard headed for that. It was just a matter of time. The only way they wouldn’t get off the island alive is if they wound up killing one another, which Sam figured was only about a 30% probability, and so he remained hopeful. 

“You know what? Barton, you _are_ a toddler, but so are you, Barnes. So I guess I’m just going to have to treat you like children.” With that, Sam stood up and faced Bucky. “Sit.” Sam pointed to his abandoned spot in the sand. 

Bucky glared at him, part challenge and part curiosity. Sam gave him a silent five count before giving the command again, barking it out loudly. 

“I said sit!”

Bucky grumbled, but he sat, turned a bit away from Clint, who was pretending to be uninterested in the happenings but who was watching from the corner of his eye regardless. 

Sam stood above them, thinking. Decided, he nodded his head a few times. “Yeah. You know what this calls for? Conflict resolution 101. You two? Face each other.”

Clint looked up to argue. Sam cocked an eyebrow and Clint’s jaw clacked shut. 

Sam made sure to reign in the shocked expression trying to make its way onto his face when both of them complied, facing each other and sitting criss cross in the sand, the water gently lapping against their thighs now rather than their feet and calves, how all three of them had started out the day. 

“Right. Okay. You know what you two need to do? You two need to practice being _nice_ to one another. You’re always poking at each other’s sore spots, with the mocking and the taunting and the outright assholery, and it is exhausting to be around. So here, now? If you want to preserve your lives and my sanity, you will look at each other and say something you like about the other person. Something that you admire, or respect, I don’t give a single damn. And you’re gonna go back and forth until I tell you to stop. Capiche?” Sam looked back and forth between the two grown ass men at his feet, waiting for the blowback to be hurtled his way. 

Instead? Both Bucky and Clint burst out laughing. 

“Wilson, Wilson, Wilson. Okay, man, I hear you. It can be a bit much to hear us runnin’ our mouths day in and out. Noted. But I am not doing something that my Ma used to make me and my little sister do at the breakfast table after we made each other cry. You know why? Because I was seven at the time, Sam. Seven. I got myself almost a century away from that nonsense, so you can keep your couples therapy techniques to yourself.” Bucky went to stand, made the motion of putting his hand flat on the sand to purchase leverage and Sam was ready to take him down when shockingly, it was Clint who reached Bucky first. 

“Wait, bro. God, for someone who spent so much time in cryo, you have absolutely zero chill,” Clint bit out, reaching forward and putting a hand on Bucky’s knee. Sam watched Bucky freeze, and then settle his ass back down into the damp sand. 

“Really? That’s how you wanna get the ball rollin’?” Sam asked, feeling tired and wondering already what the hell he had been thinking. Just because he ran support groups at the VA did not mean that he was anywhere near qualified to engage two bratty superheroes in what essentially equated to couples therapy. 

“That’s the way it’s gotta roll, Sam,” Bucky said, and his voice had gone a bit quiet. Clint nodded in agreement, some unspoken understanding. Bucky looked at Clint straight on. 

“We probably have been a little out of hand, huh?” 

Clint looked back at Bucky, the red on his cheeks making Sam ache to encourage them over to the shade. Barton was a stubborn bastard, though, and Sam’s pleading hadn’t caused Clint’s pasty ass to move an inch all morning and now probably wasn’t the time. 

“Maybe a little,” Clint agreed. “It’s just real easy to be a dick to you, what with you being such an insufferable asshole and all.” 

Sam started to butt in, stopping only when he heard Bucky snort. Fascinated, Sam sat down a few feet away from them, and there was silence for a full minute before Sam cleared his throat. 

“Alright. Well, boys, who has the guts to pull this respect train from the station?”

Bucky, because of the angle, had easier access to look over to Sam, and when their eyes met Sam raised his eyebrows. Bucky sighed out loud. 

“Fine, fine. Uh.” Bucky’s forehead creased with wrinkles as his face screwed up in thought. When he started speaking, it was slowly and with care. 

“Well, I s’pose some folks might say you’re a decent shot?” It came out as a question, and Sam facepalmed. 

Clint snorted. “Wow. This is off to a fuckin' great start.”

Bucky had the decency to shoot a wink in Clint’s direction. “Fine, crybaby. Your aim is impressive. And a few of your trick shots are pretty swell.”

Sam slowly uncurled his hand from his forehead. That? That was...something. 

Clint smirked and wiggled down further into the sand. “Fine. Acceptable. Thanks. I like how you talk like an actual 100-something year old dude even though you look 25. Swell. Nobody says swell anymore, Barnes, aside from you and Cap.”

Bucky flipped Clint off heatlessly, and Sam noticed that the tips of his ears had pinkened even further in the last few minutes. Sam squinted. 

_That’s not from the sun. That’s...huh._

“Yeah, well, we can’t all go around talking like a stand up comic all the time. Some of us have class.”

“Stand up comic? That your way of tellin’ me you think I’m funny?” Clint asked, grinning. 

Sam watched the red flush creep around Bucky’s throat. _This is everything I never knew I wanted, this idiot._

“Maybe it is. You’ve got quick wit, surprises me sometimes.” Bucky’s eyes grew wide and he held a hand up, defenses quickly rising though Clint didn’t even appear to be offended by anything that he had said. “Not that I’m surprised that you’re quick. You’re pretty fuckin’ smart, whether or not anyone else notices.”

And when Sam pulled his eyes away from Bucky’s blush to see how Clint reacted to that, it was with gleeful joy that he noticed Clint’s adam’s apple bob _hard_ as he swallowed. 

“Huh. I think you just gave me more than a couple of compliments there, Soldier. You’re pretty damn smart yourself, but you already know that. What I don’t think you know is that all of us think you’re also super fucking resilient. I mean, you’ve been through the ringer, dude, and yet here you are, hangin’ with the Earth’s mightiest, or whatever. Not many people could bounce back from HYDRA mind-fuckery like that. So.” Clint waved a hand nonchalantly. “Resilient, strong, whatever. It’s pretty awesome.”

Sam’s heart beat painfully sweet in his chest. He debated on tiptoeing away from the two of them, the exercise having delved into something more serious and personal much more quickly than he had expected. _Sometimes all folks need is a nudge in the right direction, that’s all._

Sam’s internal dialogue of patting himself on the back came to a screeching standstill when Bucky, in response to Clint’s heartfelt and vulnerable feedback, opened his mouth and blurted loudly.

“I really like your stupid face!”

And yeah. Sam wasn’t going anywhere.

Clint spluttered, a few half-started responses making their way into the air but dying before reaching completion. Bucky’s face was full on beet red by that point, and Sam had to give the dude credit - he had balls, because he just _kept talking._

“I mean. No, that is what I mean. Everyone’s always lookin’ at Stevie or Tony or Thor or even Wilson over there like they’re all God’s gift to women and men and I don’t get it - Sam, don’t look at me like that, you asshole, you’re fine as hell, this isn’t the time - but everyone must seriously be blind because how can they put Stark on the cover of Sexiest Man Alive when you’re, just...right there?! And I don’t mean to make it weird, because if you don’t swing the same w-”

“I can’t stop thinking about your arms,” Clint interrupted, apropos of nothing, and Bucky’s words died in his throat. “Both of them. Have you ever seen your muscles move when you’re shooting? And there’s so much power in that prosthetic, you wield it like it’s just a whole part of you by this point and my man? It’s hot as _fuck_.”

Bucky whined, and Sam cleared his throat. 

“Are you two legitimately about to tell me that this entire time you’ve been absolutely awful to each other, it was pigtail pulling? Because if that’s the case I’m going to throw both of you into the ocean.” Sam tried to sound serious, he did, but there was no way he came across as such with the grin that he could feel threatening the corners of his mouth. 

Clint and Bucky looked at each other, a silent conversation bouncing between them. Finally, after an agonizing half-minute, Clint looked over to Sam and grinned something feral and childish. 

“You might want to yeet yourself into that ocean instead Wilson, because Bucky and I might be needing to put the sock on the proverbial island door here in a minute, and as you can see there is only so much room-

Bucky dissolved into a fit of giggles as Sam rose quickly to his feet, kicked sand at the both of them, and hightailed it over to the shade. The giggles disappeared pretty quickly, replaced with suspicious silence and the occasional sound that Sam wanted to bleach from his brain forever. 

Could Sam be thrown in prison for threatening the life of Captain America for taking so fucking long to rescue their stranded asses? He wasn’t sure, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> Bingo Square: Stranded


End file.
